


Choke Chain

by Piinutbutter



Category: Toward the Terra
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Captain/Subordinate Relationship, Consent Issues, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-06 06:24:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21222032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piinutbutter/pseuds/Piinutbutter
Summary: For Matsuka, it comes down to the fact that being a useful monster is better than being a useless one.





	Choke Chain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aquatics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquatics/gifts).

Matsuka was crying, which meant it must have been a day ending in ‘y.’ The fact that he was hiding in Lieutenant Commander Keith Anyan’s office to have his little sobbing session was a little more unusual. And the fact that the tears _hadn’t_ been brought on by Keith himself? A novelty, at this point in Matsuka’s unlikely career.

He cringed thinking back on what had set him off this time. He wasn’t confrontational, he really wasn’t. But what was he supposed to do when a rowdy crew member disrespected Keith to Matsuka’s face? He was the Commander’s aide, he couldn’t stand for that. It wasn’t his fault the soldier had responded to his tepid admonishment by attempting to start a fistfight. It was, however, Matsuka’s fault that he was so weak he couldn’t quell said fistfight without using his loathsome Mu abilities. And it was far too dangerous to use those in public. He refused to, unless Keith’s life was in immediate danger.

So, yes, maybe Matsuka had been humiliated in front of an audience of what were technically his subordinates. Didn’t mean he had to hide in Keith’s office and cry his feelings out. All he was doing was proving everyone right: He was a useless crybaby.

A kick to his side that was just a bit too hard to qualify as a nudge brought Matsuka out of his haze. He didn’t need to look up to know who was standing over him, but he did anyway.

“Tell me,” Keith said, disgust written on his face. “This is all an act, right?”

Matsuka sniffled. “What?”

“This,” Keith repeated. He waved a hand to take in the scene he’d walked in on: His assistant curled in the corner, sniveling and clutching his knees like a child. “You. Your whole...image. It’s a show you’re putting on, isn’t it? You’re not really _this_ pathetic. You can’t be.”

“...Sorry,” Matsuka muttered. He didn’t know how else to respond. What was Keith expecting? For him to jump to his feet, stand tall, and proudly announce that Keith had discovered his secret? “I’ve always been like this.”

For as long as he could clearly remember, anyway. Maybe he’d been outgoing once, as a small child, but those days were long gone. As soon as Matsuka had realized he was different - as soon as he’d learned shame - the world had turned from a playground to a prison. Other people stopped being something to befriend, and became something to be feared. As long as Matsuka kept quiet and did what he was told, he’d thought, no one would have a chance to notice what was wrong with him. And he’d been right. Until Keith.

Matsuka rubbed his eyes, staring up at the commander. He tried to imagine having Keith’s life. Having his confidence, his skill. His ability to walk proudly among his fellow humans, knowing that his every word would be obeyed. The thought made Matsuka nauseous. The idea of being so thoroughly _seen_ by everyone was terrifying. Matsuka would never be able to handle it.

Pieces clicked together in Matsuka’s head. Maybe that was why Keith had hardened his heart. It was his armor. If Keith showed his emotions, showed that he had weaknesses, showed that he was human - people would lose their faith in him. So Keith, just like Matsuka, had put up a shield. Only, where Matsuka kept himself safe by cowering, cringing, and bowing his head, Keith kept himself strong by smirking, sneering, and turning up his nose.

_We aren’t so different after all,_ Matsuka thought. The warm rush of insight that came with that realization lowered his guard, and too late he realized he’d thought it loud enough for Keith to hear.

His commander’s face instantly darkened. “What did you just-”

A tiny, hiccuped “ah” escaped Matsuka’s throat. Translation: _Oh shit oh shit oh god._

Keith grabbed Matsuka’s collar, yanking him to his feet and slamming his back against the wall. Matsuka’s squeak of, “I’m sorry!” was interrupted by Keith’s hand around his throat. (Keith’s gloved hand, thankfully. Matsuka would be dead meat if his commander touched him and shared their thoughts at the moment.)

“Alright then,” Keith growled. “Enlighten me. Tell me what a talented, successful elite like myself has in common with a weak. Disgusting. Monster.” Each adjective was punctuated with a sharp tightening of Keith’s fingers, cutting off Matsuka’s airway.

Matsuka gasped, trying and failing to speak. Keith sneered and released his throat. Immediately Matsuka went into supplication mode, insisting, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sor-”

Keith struck him across the face. “I gave you an order, freak. Tell me what you think we have in common.”

Matsuka sniffed. The sound was ugly and wet. He had to choose his words carefully, but that was hard with his mind racing. And with Keith this close, even if they weren’t touching skin to skin, it was difficult to keep from accidentally reaching into the other’s mind, or letting his own frantic thoughts leak out of him like the tears he was so well known for.

“It’s just that...I think you have more depth than you let people see. I - I think there’s, um, compassion in you. Even if you don’t - you don’t show it. That’s what I think.”

Keith stared at him with blank eyes for a moment. Then he stepped back, released Matsuka’s collar, and struck him again, hard enough to send him crumbling to the floor. Matsuka cried out, clutching his cheek.

“Does that feel like compassion to you, Matsuka?”

“N-no, but...”

“You freak. Get out of my office.”

With that, Keith turned and walked away. By the time he’d settled himself at his desk, Matsuka was standing on unsteady feet.

As the automatic door whirred open, Matsuka hesitated with his back to his commander. He knew better than to broadcast a thought to Keith right now, but he could still whisper loud enough to be heard.

“I never said it was compassion towards _me_, sir.”

* * *

Matsuka had never heard Keith say the words ‘thank you.’

He accepted Matsuka’s coffee deliveries with little more acknowledgment than a nod - if he even bothered to do that much. Matsuka had saved Keith’s life, what, three times now? And Keith showed no more gratitude for that than he did for the coffee.

Matsuka reflected, sometimes, on how easy it would be to end Keith’s life. For all his empty threats, Matsuka wouldn’t even have to poison Keith’s drinks. All he had to do was _not_ go out of his way and endanger himself to ensure his captain’s safety. No one would even blame him; no one else knew that he had the power to protect Keith in the first place.

Say he let Keith die. Then what?

Then Matsuka would melt back into the rank and file of military personnel. He’d go back to running menial tasks and avoiding everyone’s eyes. He’d live like a drone and die hollow and alone.

Alternately: Then Matsuka would defect and join the Mu.

His people.

His monsters.

For all he was one, Matsuka didn’t actually know that much about the mutant race. What was their society like? Would they tolerate someone like Matsuka, fragile mind and weak body and all?

Sure, Matsuka could go to the Mu...and live in fear every day for the rest of his life, waiting for the humans to hunt him down. Keith was hardly the only official with the desire and ability to order a massacre.

Yeah. No.

When it came down to it, being a useful monster was better than being a useless one.

And so, when yet another unhinged cadet blew out the security failsafes and stormed into Keith’s room with a gun, Matsuka teleported to the scene as soon as he could.

The problem was that Matsuka had been taking care of something on the opposite side of the ship, and ‘as soon as he could’ wasn’t until after Keith’s voice had burst into his mind with a scrambled S.O.S. By the time Matsuka arrived, Keith was rendered motionless and bleeding on the floor, and the would-be assassin had his gun trained at the commander’s head for a finishing blow.

Matsuka’s mind went blank, his powers rearing their head along with his rage. He wasn’t sure what exactly he did. Only that when he came back to himself, the former cadet was in a lot more pieces than he’d been a minute ago, and Keith was _still bleeding out._

A minor wound wouldn’t have been a problem. Keith was tough, and a little blood wouldn’t kill him. But through the pale colors of Keith’s uniform, Matsuka could see that the bullet had entered perilously close to his heart. Maybe even through it.

_“No, no, no...don’t you die on me.”_ Matsuka didn’t know if his panicked ramblings came out of his mouth or stayed in his head. Keith didn’t acknowledge them, but Keith also looked ready to lose consciousness at any moment. Matsuka’s hands shook as he tore the bloodied uniform away and applied pressure to the wound with the heel of his hand. Keith grunted, cringing from the pain.

_”Hold on. Just hold on.”_ The blood wasn’t slowing much at all. At this rate Matsuka didn’t know if he’d have enough time...to...

He didn’t have enough time, he realized. But he could make enough time.

Matsuka squeezed his eyes shut and slowed the world around him. The functions of Keith’s body went into slow-motion along with it. Not only did it give Matsuka enough time to think of a plan, it gave him a window to execute it.

It was risky, of course. This whole thing was. But a chance of life was better than certain death.

He reached his will into Keith’s body, focusing on the area around the wound. His worst fear was confirmed: Keith’s heart was ruptured. The spike of anxiety he felt at that realization nearly kicked him back into real time. He steeled himself and took muscle, tissue, and nerves in metaphorical hand, healing the critical points of injury with his mind alone.

It was exhausting. Had the damage been any greater, Matsuka would have had no hope of making a difference. But as he withdrew his consciousness and watched Keith take a shuddering gasp, he knew he’d done something right.

Keith knew it too, based on the way he raised shaking fingers to his chest, then frowned at Matsuka.

Instead of a thank you: “I told you not to use your powers on me.”

Matsuka huffed. “Yeah, well, I told you not to die on me!”

And instead of a thank you: “Heh. You really are fucked in the head.”

Matsuka didn’t try to disagree with that. Why would he? Keith was right.

* * *

With Keith’s life once again safe, Matsuka settled back into his comfortable routine. The comfort came crashing down around him when Keith held yet another meeting with the senate.

Matsuka didn’t have to be a political genius to know that things were dangerously tense among the Terran leaders. Keith had them all over a barrel, and a cornered human was a human just waiting to lash out. Keith didn’t make the situation any better by pushing harder and harder for Mu factor screenings among high-ranking officials. At this point, several of the officials in the room had had close friends and revered allies taken away and quarantined by the screenings. The matter was at a boiling point, and there was nowhere else for them to lash out but at the man responsible.

“This is an outrage. These are good, honorable men - men who’ve given you the privileges you have now - and you’re treating them as criminals.”

“Are you _trying_ to collapse our society? Because you’re doing a good job of it.”

“At this rate, the Mu won’t need to lift a finger. You’ll have wiped us out on your own!”

“Madness. Utter madness.”

Then the objections took on a tone that sent ice through Matsuka’s chest.

“You’re so eager to screen the rest of us, but you let your underlings off unscathed.”

“He’s right. I’ve never seen _them_ screened.” An accusatory finger reproached Serge and Matsuka.

“Would you be so quick to dispatch your favorites, I wonder?”

There were more, but Matsuka didn’t hear them. He didn’t hear anything through the thundering rush of blood in his ears.

Keith had done plenty to hurt him, but paradoxically, he’d always been the one person to keep Matsuka safe. It would have been so easy for Keith to expose Matsuka for what he was, and Matsuka would have been out of Keith’s hair without the lieutenant having to lift a finger. But he never did. Even in the midst of his frenzy to eliminate anyone who showed the slightest trace of being _like_ Matsuka, Keith had never brought up the idea of including Matsuka himself in the culling.

He’d been living on borrowed time, really. Now it was his turn, and the reality of facing judgment was the most frightening thing Matsuka had ever felt.

Matsuka just hoped Keith would be the one to kill him.

All eyes were on him and Serge. Inside his mouth, Matsuka’s cheek was bleeding where he chewed it. His breath felt like it had stalled halfway up his throat. He was dizzy.

_Don’t cry,_ he reminded himself. _If you cry, it’s over. You’re done for. Don’t you cry. Jonah Matsuka, you sniveling weakling, for ONCE in your pathetic life don’t you DARE cry-_

_Calm down._

Keith’s voice flooded his mind like cool water. It dragged him out of his spiral, and he looked to Keith with an expression he hoped betrayed nothing more than attentiveness.

_I've got this._

“These are reasonable concerns,” Keith said out loud, cutting through the din. “But I’m afraid they are unfounded. If you must know, I have Jonah Matsuka’s screening report right here.”

Matsuka suppressed a gasp as Keith pulled a file up on the conference room’s main screen. He knew damn well Keith had never let him near the screening process, but there in full color was a forged bill of clean health. It looked authentic to Matsuka’s untrained eye. No one in the crowd gave any indication it didn’t pass a closer inspection.

Keith moved onto covering for Serge, and Matsuka didn’t know or care if that result was genuine. All he could focus on was the overwhelming relief flooding through him.

The rest of the meeting went by in a blur. As soon as he and Keith were alone, Matsuka let himself stumble forward on weak knees. He wasn’t sure if it was his aim or not, but a moment later his arms were wrapped around his commander.

Before Keith could yell at him or push him away, Matsuka whispered, “Thank you. _Thank you._”

Maybe he imagined it, but Matsuka was pretty sure it took Keith longer than usual to pry him off. He gave Matsuka a small, brusque smile. “Why the dramatics? I told you: You’re still of use to me. Nobody gets to kill my monster without my say so.”

It wasn’t until Matsuka was curled up in bed that night that he realized today had been Keith’s own way of saying thanks.

* * *

Things changed between them after those two incidents.

Keith didn’t magically transform into a bubbly, affectionate person. He still walled himself off from the world and focused his efforts on the eradication of Matsuka’s own race. He still found every excuse to beat, berate, or otherwise harass Matsuka. But. It felt...different? There wasn’t much bite behind the bark. It felt like Keith was just going through the motions. The commander knew what was expected of him, and treating his subordinate like dirt was just an element of playing the part.

Or perhaps Matsuka was being overly optimistic. That was more likely.

There was one change Matsuka couldn’t put down to his imagination: The touches.

Keith had never been one for casual touch in the first place, but with Matsuka, he’d always shunned physical contact with a pointed air. Unless Keith was using his hands to take his frustration out on his assistant, he studiously avoided contracting any Mu cooties.

Matsuka couldn’t blame him too much. He’d made it clear to Keith that touching bare skin was the quickest way to bypass Keith’s long years of training on mental shielding. (Keith assumed he was being nosy. The truth was, Matsuka couldn’t help it. Wasn’t like he’d received training on how to control his abilities.)

Now, though...Keith was bolder. Some of the painful tension had eased out of the air between them whenever they were together. Now, if Matsuka was too distracted for Keith’s taste, Keith had no problem shaking his shoulder to get him to focus. (A little too roughly, but, well. It was Keith.) If Matsuka was lagging behind on a long walk through the ship, Keith didn’t hesitate to grab his arm and pull him along.

It was nice. In a weird way.

Matsuka had stopped trying to rationalize his own emotional responses to Keith Anyan. It was a fruitless task.

Of course, this shift in their dynamic had the surprising and pleasant side effect of giving Matsuka more confidence, at least where Keith was concerned. The Matsuka Keith had met (and promptly shot) on Pesetra station could never have done what he was planning to do right now.

Matsuka didn’t need to use his Mu side to figure out that Keith was in a gloomy mood. Which wasn’t uncommon, but tonight it was _bad_. Bad enough that Keith’s mental shields had slipped like loose clothing off narrow shoulders, and even with a door between them, Matsuka could hear his commander pondering his own death in soft, daydreamy detail.

Matsuka couldn’t call it an unpleasant surprise; it wasn’t really a surprise. That didn’t make it any easier to hear.

He knew just trying to talk to the man wouldn’t help. Keith abhorred acknowledging the fact that he had - shock and horror - _feelings_. There weren’t exactly any hobbies Keith indulged in that didn't involve genocide, so Matsuka couldn’t cajole him into taking his mind off things with some entertainment.

...Except maybe he could. It just had to be the right kind of entertainment.

Matsuka knew this was an insane plan even as the door to Keith’s quarters opened in front of him. If he played his cards right, he could take advantage of Keith’s love of making Matsuka feel small, and distract him from the depressing storm that was his train of thought at the moment. If he miscalculated...well. There was little Keith could do to him that he hadn’t already.

Okay, that was a lie. There were a lot of worse things Keith could do to him. Matsuka just trusted his commander not to do them. Which probably said something about Matsuka.

Keith didn’t look up at Matsuka’s announcement that he was entering. Nor did he look up when Matsuka said he needed to rest, and settled down in one of the office’s armchairs. He just kept staring at documents he wasn’t seeing.

Matsuka took a deep breath through his nose. It was kind of thrilling, having Keith’s mind so accessible to him. But he wasn’t here to trespass boundaries - just to toe their line enough to get the attention of the man who’d set them.

So, Matsuka began daydreaming himself.

More accurately, he deliberately recalled the daydreams of others on the ship. Mental images he’d accidentally seen, died of embarrassment over, and thoroughly buried until now.

Matsuka had stopped being shocked the fourth time he overheard a crew member imagining lewd things about himself and his commander. With the rumors that flew around about exactly why results-driven Commander Anyan kept a scrawny, dumb pretty boy at his side, it was inevitable someone would take their fantasies a step further.

Thinking just loud enough for it to seem like an honest mistake, Matsuka indulged in a vision of himself and Keith stealing lingering touches behind closed doors. Sharing long, meaningful glances. Trying to deny their feelings until the tension was too much to take and confessions were made and kisses were shared and clothes were shed and Matsuka had a gun to his head.

Wait. That last one was real.

He’d gotten Keith’s attention, alright. This was not exactly the reaction he’d hoped for. Matsuka gave him what he hoped was an innocent look.

“Keith? Sir?”

His face was unreadable. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

Matsuka swallowed. “Is it working?”

Keith didn’t lower the gun. “Depends on your definition of working. Did you think through the consequences of sharing your little perversions with me?”

“...Yes?” Although the consequences in his head hadn’t involved guns.

“Then pay up.”

Keith planted his foot on the chair cushion, shoving the toe of his boot unceremoniously between Matsuka’s legs.

“Oh,” Matsuka mumbled, thrilled and terrified in equal measure. “Could you just - the gun...”

“Oh, this? It’s just here to make sure you keep your filthy hands to yourself.” He leaned over his subordinate, relaxed and predatory. “If you want me, you’ll do as I say. Just like usual, yes?”

Matsuka’s heart was pounding. For once he couldn’t pretend it was out of fear. Not entirely, at least. He wiped his sweat-slick palms on the pants of his uniform and met his commander’s eyes.

“Yes, sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> And then they had the world’s most dysfunctional Stockholm-tastic happily ever after and nothing else bad happened to Matsuka ever. Don’t fact check that.


End file.
